What a delightful day for a picnic!
The waves of Charbydis lapped against the beach
Helios had not yet set upon the Cliffside
And the song of Sirens played softly over the dune
Scylla laid in wait upon her blanket in the sand
for sailors, the most scrumptious of company,
To pass by her snare
She will reel them in like a fisherman
Entice them into her cavern with her sway
Posing all twelve of her long tall legs for the show and
Nibbling on appetizers of caviar and starfish

Fleets edge up to Beauty’s blanket
But only six men will be served
They would be wined and dined upon
A pound of meat; A bottle of red
“Oh, yes, dears, there is plenty enough to go around
Would you like some more?
You sure are a group of big strong lads.”
The conversation goes on like this
With the choral serenade still lingering in the distance
The calming waves churning along the shore
And Helios preparing for bed
Scylla smiles with all of her teeth
Then she cries
She wines like a babe about ceaseless desire
Here, they cry for her
She brings them close to her lips
They enter her and are consumed by her ways

The feast is done
The lambs were harvested on a bed of kelp
The ox were well seasoned with salt and brine
Beef and poultry and pig and man
All were taken down her gullet
With nary a crumb left for the ants
The men lay strewn about the den
From the ravenous ferocity of their hunger
In spent puddles along her floor
A little of them here
A little there
“Seconds?”
Gracious Host has the nerve to ask
“Dessert?”

It was good to see some of the old guard keeping watch over the up and coming Houston Poetry Slam talent. This was their first slam of the season to prepare for sending a team off to North Carolina. It was a great show, but that is hardly what I want to talk about. I might be a little rusty on appreciating the quality of the poetry involved, yet my good natured heckling skills were alive and well toned. You have to keep yourself in shape.

The venue was a low key coffee house on the east end called Secret Word Cafe. The same place Marcel Murphy, Houston Slam Team alumni, runs a writing workshop every Saturdays at 11am. The barrista / owner (i don’t even want to try and spell her name without seeing it) made a special tea for me and named it after the African name Jelani Williams gave me before he died off continent retracing his roots for the umpteenth time. Can it really be retracing if you have already done it, embraced it and started to live it?

The event was live and I am looking forward to future showcases – every Friday at Secret Word. They have a lot to work on before the Nationals in August. Some great poets spat in our face about greater issues than teen angst, politics, sexuality, color and growing up. The winner, DEEP, hit us with a first person piece about a mother sticking her babies in a dryer or an oven or a microwave. i was never sure which and it could have very well been all three. They were nearly going to forego the encore. i could not let that happen.

Marcel performed a sacrificial piece. It was not his best. It was not his worst either though. My only disappointment (aside from not seeing some of the old school greats: Karega, Rassul, Murph, Marie Brown, Craig Lindsey, Cedric “Brother Ced,” Alex Wukman, Doug Shields…. this list could go on for a while) is that Kyle Blue never stepped out onto the matt. His girl did. She rocked a piece about an aspberger kid wanting to be treated like an adult. My favorite was Peter “the Rock.” Although he did not win that night, I am positive he will be a member of the Houston Slam Team.

Come out and support them. Secret Word Cafe every Friday. Doors open at 8pm.